


Frilly Blue Stamp

by LN_Tora



Category: Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Humor, M/M, cross dressing, cross-dressing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-29
Updated: 2012-09-29
Packaged: 2017-11-15 06:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/524349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LN_Tora/pseuds/LN_Tora
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Legolas and Aragorn both have bets saying Boromir can't. With Arwen and Faramir's help, he will... he just doesn't WANT to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluegerl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluegerl/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Rubyverse AU Series](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/11830) by rubyelf. 



> _Disclaimer_ : Non-profit fan derivative work. All characters depicted are properties of their respective creators and/or license holders.
> 
> For rubyswap prompt #13. Set with permission in the rubyverse AU, which is required reading for this to make a bit more sense.

"You want me to _WHAT_!"

Merry winced; before now he'd been sure they had heard Boromir yell as loudly as he could get. Thanks to Pippin, he was painfully proven how wrong that assumption was.

Pippin didn't seem to be affected in the least. In fact, the little Hobbit-shaped devil was grinning. Merry didn't understand how he was even managing to remain standing; the force of Boromir's glare should have been enough to knock him out by now.

"Well, we _have_ acquired a lot of points by not waking the bear. You admitted that yourself. In fact, Merry counted it, and it was pretty close--" Pippin waited until Boromir stopped growling about his brother being too light a sleeper and how all rangers were crazy from a lack of sleep. "--so we all agreed you'd get a Hobbit-free afternoon, and we'd keep ours for a favour. Well, we've decided to call that favour in."

"What's this 'we' stuff?" Merry asked. "I distinctly said it was a ridiculous idea and we should just have him order the cooks to give us whatever we wanted for a day."

"You said you thought seeing him like that would be good idea!"

"No, I said you getting him to do it would be a miracle, after saying it was a dumb idea."

"And your idea is so much better?"

"At least we'd be fed!"

"But we'd miss a once in a lifetime opportunity!"

"Some things are better to be missed."

"Why you--"

"ENOUGH!" This time both Hobbits cringed from the sheer volume. Boromir took a deep breath, counted to twenty as Faramir once taught him to do when angry, then took another breath. He fixed Pippin with another glare, causing the Hobbit in question to eep and hide behind a still grumbling Merry.

"Would you care to explain to me, little Pippin, exactly _why_ you would ask me to do something like _that_!"

Pippin stuttered, having finally caught on just how upset Boromir appeared to be. Still, he honestly couldn't pass up a chance that he'd get if he were able to convince Boromir to come around. Before he could speak, Merry huffed and answered first.

"Because, aside from being an idiot, he's got a bet going with both Legolas and Aragorn."

"Merry! You weren't suppose to blurt it out!"

"It's not like he's going to do it." Merry countered. "And that's why I say you're wasting our favour and should just ask for a day of free rein in the kitchen."

"But if he would, we'd get that anyway! Arwen said--"

"You got Arwen into this, too? Who else, Faramir?"

"No! Well, not for lack of trying, but he said he wasn't about to get into a bet with a Hobbit, especially any named Peregrine or Took. I said he was becoming more like his brother every day, what with such a lack of humour--ack!" Pippin was hoisted up by the back of his shirt and held at eye level to Gondor's currently fuming Steward. It was a near thing that Boromir didn't give the little bundle of trouble a shake, but even with the completely outlandish request, he could never bring himself to harm either Hobbit. It did not, however, mean he was above instilling a small bit of fear.

"Mind telling me just what kind of bet you would have going with Aragorn, Arwen, _and_ a useless elf, especially _that_ useless elf?"

Pippin still managed a smile, causing Merry to give an exasperated shake and wonder if perhaps his cousin hadn't finally gotten in over head. "There's actually a perfectly reasonable explanation--" Pippin began, only to get cut off by Merry.

"Only if your name if Pippin," he muttered.

"Well I didn't see you disagreeing with me when I was talking to them."

"Because I wasn't fast enough to stop the insanity spilling from your mouth. So I did the only thing I could and stood back to let you make your own bed."

"Now see here--" Pippin stopped with a squeak as a low growl reminded him of the precarious position he was in.

"Pippin..."

"Alright, alright! So I was talking first to Legolas and was saying how elves were made so that you couldn't always tell one from another, in as such, anyway. He replied how a few other races had that problem, except Men. Then, after a moment, he murmured even of few Men might be hard to distinguish in such a manner, and I can't be sure but I think he mentioned Faramir, though he had the oddest look on his face. Honestly, I couldn't quite make it out. It was almost the same as when you read those books that--"

"Pippin!"

Pippin paused before remembering what he was originally talking about. "Wh--oh, yes! Anyway, Legolas said Men such as you and Aragorn were always easily recognisable, and would likely never have to worry about something like that. Well of course I told him that we wouldn't know unless we saw you as such, and he said Mordor would become an elven paradise before that ever happened. So I said you would, and he said if he ever witnessed such a sight, he'd dye himself blue and serenade Faramir in front of his Rangers."

Boromir could only blink for a few seconds. He gave a few shakes before turning to Merry, a question plain in his eyes.

"Yes, he was drunk," Merry confirmed.

"I see." Glaring once more at Pippin, he asked, "So that's how the useless elf got involved. And as much as I might like to see him make a fool of himself and maybe play a joke on Faramir, that's not enough to make me even consider--"

"But wait!" Pippin yelped. "So Legolas said all that, and I said deal. So I went to ask Aragorn if he knew where I could find some blue dye. When he asked me what I wanted with any sort of dye--and I must say he seemed unreasonably suspicious--I explained my bet with Legolas. Suddenly he started laughing so hard I was sure he'd land on the floor. Then he made a bet as well if Legolas actually did dye his hair blue, let alone serenade anybody. But as I was leaving, Arwen came up and asked if I was sure I could get Legolas to do it, so when I explained, she said if I got everyone to do what they said, she'd let Merry and me have the cooks make us whatever we wanted for the day." The hoisted Hobbit sighed. "Not that I wouldn't mind that, but seems a boring bet to make to me. Not at all like what Legolas and Aragorn said."

"That's because, unlike almost everyone else here, Arwen has some sense," Merry muttered, unheard by the other two.

Boromir continued to glare, noticing Pippin left something out. "And what, exactly, did Aragorn say he'd do in all of this?"

"Well, he said I couldn't really tell anybody," Pippin hedged.

"What he said was you weren't allowed to tell Legolas," Merry pointed out. "And do you really want to keep anything from Boromir when you're in that position?"

"Hmm, quite right. Still..." Pippin thought for a moment, then gestured for Boromir to come closer. He rolled his eyes and simply held Pippin to his ear. After hearing the stakes of Aragorn's bet whispered into his ear, Boromir blinked once, twice, lowering Pippin down to the floor on the third blink. The Hobbit quickly scrambled back behind Merry.

"Oh no, don't go hiding behind me. You're the one who started all of this."

"And you're supposed to stop me from doing such things," Pippin argued. He ducked when Merry moved to box his ears, only for both Hobbits to pause when they heard Boromir clear his throat. They turned and noticed a strange expression on the large man's face, one they'd never seen before.

"Well, given that we did agree on how to use our points from the game, and I was disturbed enough to give you a future mark--"

"Disturbed?"

"He means crazy, Pippin, and I think I'll agree."

"Hey!"

"--in the interest of fairness," Boromir said, his voice louder to forestall another argument, "I have no alternative but to grant to this absurd request." Boromir couldn't believe he'd said all that with a straight face. Shoulders drooping in resignation, he asked, "But just how are we going to go about this? I have no idea on where to even start."

Merry stared at Boromir as if the man had grown a second head. Pippin on the other hand looked quite excited as he chimed in. "Oh, no worries there. Arwen said she'd be glad to help!"

It was on the tip of Boromir's tongue to yell about telling Arwen about it. He instead swallowed it back with a groan, knowing she would be the best one to assist him in this dreadful experience. "Fine. Let's go, then." He didn't wait for either to respond, but just picked Pippin up and tucked the Hobbit under his arm like a sack of potatoes.

"Wha--I can walk, you know!"

Boromir did know, but decided a little revenge was due, given this entire mess was indeed Pippin's fault. Merry trotted behind, wondering if Pippin's moments of idiocy were becoming contagious.

~~~~~

"You want me to _WHAT_!"

"You were right. It _is_ possible for him to get louder," Arwen said.

Merry nodded. "Told you so," he replied. Pippin was too busy trying to make the ringing in his ears stop after that bellow.

The Hobbits had pulled a reluctant steward towards Arwen's sitting room, where the four of them were now gathered after Arwen had made sure all her ladies were made busy with other tasks in different parts of the citadel. At present, Pippin and Merry were enjoying a plate of honeyed cakes and tea. Boromir wasn't thinking of refreshments. He had more on his mind while standing in the middle of what he could only describe as a fabric laden nightmare that left him gaping at the elven lady. He wondered how Faramir would handle telling the queen of Gondor that he thought she was crazy. Knowing his brother, he was sure Faramir would find _some_ way of saying it in a diplomatic manner that wouldn't get him tossed into a cell. Yet a good leader was aware of their own limits, and since Boromir was well aware that he was about as diplomatic as a cave troll, he wisely refrained from saying anything on that matter. Not that he didn't have plenty to say about the rest of it.

"My lady, surely you jest. What does a gathering like that have to do with me wearing any of _this_?" he asked. Boromir emphasized his point by grabbing a nearby top and shaking it while he held it up for view. He blanched slightly at the weight of it in his hand; just holding it made him feel as though his own sanity was slipping away. Boromir quickly dropped it back into the maelstrom.

Arwen gave him a placid smile, though it put Boromir of the mind of a wolf just before it pounced on its prey. "Really, my lord steward. It won't have the same affect if you confine yourself to the royal wing. And by going to the banquet, you can be assured that both Legolas and Aragorn will be forced to behave, whereas they may decide to make the experience that much more difficult for you in private.

The reasoning was sound, but Boromir didn't often let logic stop him from arguing in the past, and wouldn't start any time soon. "They will do so whether or not I attend the banquet in such an outfit. I don't see why I should subject myself to further embarrassment by parading in front of a crowd!"

"Actually, given their own ill-conceived wagers, I sincerely doubt either Aragorn or Legolas will have much to say that you wouldn't be able to counter with." She glanced down at Pippin, who only grinned back. "Fortunately for some of us, we either know better than to wager, or make sure the stakes are such that we can afford to lose."

"In other words, the smart people," Merry quipped.

"But then we'd never have any fun," Pippin pointed out. A raised eyebrow from Arwen silenced them both. Satisfied, she looked back to Boromir.

"Don't worry, nobody else will recognise you," she promised, which Boromir found hard to believe.

"My lady-- _Arwen_ , there's simply no way I'm going to pass as anything but a fool if I put any of this on."

She waved his worries away with a gentle flicker of her hand. "Oh, this will work. I've actually done this before with others. Granted, they were a bit more slender, lacking your build from your sword training. But it can be done. Faramir is already getting one of the necessary items--"

The blood drained from the steward's face. Boromir briefly wondered just which of the Valar he insulted to have found himself in this situation. "My _brother_ knows about this?" he asked, ignoring the near squeak in his voice.

Another smile, this one clearly questioning Boromir's sensibility. "Of course. He had an idea something was amiss when Legolas began sending images of what they might do in the coming week. He asked me about it, so I explained about the wager he had with Pippin, which Legolas is convinced he will win."

Pausing, Boromir folded his arms across his chest as he sent a look Pippin's way. "And just what does that useless elf of my brother's think he's going to get if he wins?"

"I imagine the same thing Pippin has promised Aragorn," Arwen replied, saving Pippin the need to answer, as well as giving a chance for the Hobbit to hide behind Merry to escape Boromir's glare. "He offered Aragorn a day without any outside interruptions, to spend as he pleased."

"Including any Hobbit-like interruptions," added Merry.

Boromir immediately understood the temptation of an offer like that. Still.... "And how do you propose to keep people from bothering the _king_?"

The younger Hobbit grinned. "Oh, the plan is quite easy. If we keep everyone else busy with us, they'll be too busy to bother Aragorn."

"That... might actually work," Boromir mumbled, more to himself. He gave a great all-over shudder as he remembered just why those stakes were made. "Still, did you _have_ to involved Faramir as well?"

"I'm sure he would have figured it own on his own; I simply expedited things," Arwen told him. "As it is, I doubt if Faramir will think much of it himself."

"Oh? And why is that?"

Another smile, and Boromir wondered how a person could make one smile mean so many different things without changing their expression. "Well, I've learned some interesting things about the rangers of Ithilien. Did you know Faramir had been recruited into the spy network some of the rangers served in?"

The answering scowl wasn't unexpected. "What does that have to do with this?" He whirled at the chuckle that came from the outer door.

"It has quite a bit to do with it, "Faramir said as he was waved in by Arwen, "and perhaps I'll even tell you one day. That is, if we can pull this off." He gave a short bow to the queen and murmured, "I managed to find one in the correct size, though I cannot say it was an easy search, all things considered." Arwen nodded, understanding that finding anything in Boromir's size for this would be a bit difficult.

"There's no way any of this will work, and I don't even know why you're helping with..." Boromir trailed off as he noticed something odd in his brother's arms. "What exactly are you holding, brother of mine?"

Faramir grinned as he held it up for inspection, only to drop it to stop his brother when Boromir paled and raced for the door. It was a near thing, but Faramir managed to keep his older sibling from escaping.

"No and no and no again! I refuse! I won't do it, do you hear me!" The steward bellowed as he tried to throw Faramir off of him. "Let me go Fara! I will absolutely _not_ go through with this."

"What about our points?" Pippin asked from behind Merry, the two keeping a safe distance away from the raging Steward.

"Shove those points, there's nothing that's going to ever make me get into that--that--" The others watched as Faramir whispered something into Boromir's ear. Not even Arwen was quite sure what he said, but it not only calmed Boromir down, but brought a faint tinge of colour to his cheeks. Growling, he stepped away from Faramir as soon as he was released. "Fine then. Just know I'm going to hate all of you for a few weeks after this--well, most of you," he amended when Arwen favoured him with a light glance. "...half of you," he muttered on seeing a similar expression on Faramir's face. "Grr, stop that," Boromir growled at the sorrowful looks on the Hobbits' faces. "I have to be mad at somebody, damn it all!"

"Just admit defeat, brother," Faramir chuckled. "Though if you truly have to be angry at someone, I suggest Legolas. He helped start this strange venture, and he wouldn't care one way or another if you blamed him or not."

"Stupid, conceited, useless, stuck-up, prissy..."

Arwen and Faramir both ignored Boromir's mutters on said elf's numerous character flaws. Once assured it was safe to move again, Pippin scurried over to pick up what Faramir had dropped, and held it to the light. He squinted at it a moment, then held it towards Boromir while imagining what it would look like.

"Are you sure this is big enough?" It was Pippin's turn to drop the offending item as he dashed behind Merry once more when Boromir made a half-hearted lunge for the younger Hobbit. Arwen chuckled as she picked it up off the floor while Faramir pulled his brother towards the other side of the room.

"I'm quite sure it will fit, as I took one of Boromir's tunics with me to the clothier so they'd have an idea of the proper size," he explained. Arwen herself was busy holding different pieces up to the light or near Boromir's face to see the effects.

"You did--what the hell--how many others are going to get involved in this!" Boromir fumed, though he stood still when Arwen glanced at him. "I suppose you'll have to tell the cooks next, is that it?"

"We might, so they'll serve foods that won't make too many stains."

"Fa-ra-mir."

"I thought only orcs could growl like that," Pippin whispered.

"Between the two, I think right now an orc would be safer." Merry told him, glancing up when Faramir shook his head.

"I wouldn't go so far as to say he sounds like an orc," he said, "but a Warg, yes, I'd say so."

"Why you--!"

"Please hold still," Arwen interrupted. "I think I've found the right colour for you."

Seeing Boromir close to losing his temper in a fantastic way, Faramir held up his hands. "Peace, brother. The tailor I went to is not unfamiliar with making clothing of this nature. He's done so many times, and is most discreet, as was required if him."

Boromir gritted his teeth and looked at a point over Faramir's shoulder. "And why would anyone need to make such clothes and be secretive?" He stopped when Faramir stepped next to him and whispered in his ear.

"Spy network."

The simple answer gave Boromir pause. He glanced over at his brother as though seeing him in a new and strange light. "You mean--"

"When needed, though there was a moment when I thought I would be sick as a result." Faramir could hear the question hanging in the air. "That's an entirely different story, and one I'm not sharing in this room."

Pippin was feeling rather put out at being left out of whatever the brothers were murmuring to one another. "What are you two whispering about?"

"State classified intelligence that I can only repeat to the Steward or the King," Faramir smoothly replied.

"Meaning there's little point in you asking about it," added Merry, poking Pippin in his side.

"Stop that! And why shouldn't I ask?"

"Because anything having to do with intelligence will be lost on you."

"Now see here--" Both Hobbits went silent when Arwen raised an eyebrow in their direction. She turned back and held up one last piece, appearing satisfied with the choice.

"I think this one will do. Captain, I will need your assistance."

"Oh course, my lady." He went to lead Boromir into Arwen's dressing room, amused at how red his brother's face was getting at going into a place he'd held as off-limits. When Pippin and Merry made to follow, Faramir held a hand up to stop them.

"I think we can handle this part," he told the two. He was amused, but hardly surprised to see Pippin pouting.

"That's not fair! I'm the one who suggested--"

"Yes, and now is certainly not the time to bring it up," Merry said. He covered Pippin's mouth before the younger Hobbit could say any more and pulled him in the opposite direction. Pippin managed to get his mouth free, though he was still being dragged away.

"But it was my idea!"

"And a worse idea would be hard to find."

"I didn't see you arguing about it."

"Because I was struck dumb by how bad it was."

"I doubt if it was much of a strike, then."

"And for you, it wouldn't need to be a tap."

Faramir listened until he was sure Merry had pulled Pippin out of the room before turning to Arwen. "There is the risk that one of those two will say something," he pointed out.

"Merry won't let Pippin speak, I've made sure of it." The curious look from both brothers prompted her to explain. "Even if we don't get Legolas and Aragorn to do as they've wagered, I've assured Merry that free day with the cooks provided that he is able to help Pippin remain discreet. I think the incentive is enough to guarantee success for that aspect."

"I believe you're right." Faramir could only marvel at the queen's intelligence and cunning, so often hidden behind a placid smile. He turned to appraise Boromir, his chin resting on his fingers. "Well, the most obvious should be attended to first."

"I had the maids draw a bath and gather a selective of oils we can use. As for that, I believe you are of steady hand."

Boromir swallowed as the light caught the blade of the straight edge. He brought both hands to his cheeks, fear shining in his eyes.

"Not--not my _beard_!"

~~~~~

"Pull."

Faramir grunted as he yanked hard on the ties in his hand. Boromir squeaked as he felt his insides being crushed.

"Once more, if you please."

"I'll have to use his back to pull it any more."

"Those are your house slippers, and this won't be seen once he's dressed." Arwen nodded. "Once more, as you need."

Boromir would have yelled if he'd had any air to do so. He fumed when he felt his brother's foot on his back. "Now see he-- _eek_!" For a moment Boromir was certain his heart would be forced up from his throat if Faramir pulled those ties any tighter. "Please stop!"

"That should do." Arwen came round and quickly secured the ties in place. Faramir stepped back once sure nothing would come loose.

"Can't breathe," Boromir gasped.

"Take smaller breaths," Faramir cautioned. "Trying to breathe normally will make you pass out."

"I think I'm going to do that anyway!" was the wheezing reply.

"You'll be fine. Some wear these all the time."

Boromir would had snorted, but didn't dare waste any precious air. "They're obviously into self-inflicted misery and should be sent to the sick ward," he complained. "In fact, this whole affair seems to be one complicated form of torture. And people do this every _day_? They're clearly not right in the head."

"There are those who find some of it pleasant," Arwen said. "Now sit, we still have to see to your face."

"How much more damage can you do to my face?" Boromir didn't care if he was whining. He'd been subjected to one nightmarish experience after another that saw his pride twisted, stabbed, mangled, beaten, destroyed, and left to rot on the floor. Whining was the least of his concerns when he remembered everything else he'd been put through. First was the shaving of his beard, which would take weeks to grow back and he'd look like he'd just entered adulthood until it did. Then was the bath, where it seemed the other hairs on his body were to be stripped as well. Boromir drew the line regarding one particular patch of hair, despite Faramir saying Aragorn might enjoy it nude. After came oils far too flowery for his liking, leaving the steward with more than a few sneezing fits. His hair he was trying not to think about, having been drenched in rosewater and undergone treatments he was sure Morgoth himself had devised as torment. The undergarments he knew would give him bad dreams for days to come. His insides were still being slowly crushed. And now Boromir could see several small jars with various colours and brushes on the top of Arwen's vanity.

"I don't know what these things are," Boromir's hand made a sweeping gesture to encompass the many containers, "but I am certain I want nothing to do with any of it."

"While I would normally not wish to do anything to such a handsome face," Arwen hid a giggle at the red hue staining Boromir's cheeks, "we do have to touch it up for our purposes."

He respected his queen. He held her in the highest regard. Yet Boromir thought he could discern a gleam in her eye that he had only seen when she was being somewhat devious.

"You're enjoying this far too much."

"I'm only doing my part to see you get what you want from all of this."

"And being the youngest and therefore having no younger siblings to torment means you're making up for lost time," Faramir pointed out. At the ensuing silence, Boromir's eyes grew both suspicious and worried.

"My lady?"

"...sit still. I don't want this to streak."


	2. Chapter 2

"You didn't tell me about the guests!"

Faramir held up his hands. "I thought you knew."

"How could I? I was busy being turned into a dress dummy!" hissed Boromir.

Faramir hid a grin. "For what it's worth, if I didn't know you, I would mistake you for one of Rohan's shieldmaidens."

"Be very careful in your sleep tonight, little brother."

"I sleep lightly anyway. But what's so bad about the guests?"

Boromir barely contained a growl as he peeked out from the curtain he was hiding behind. "Oh, let's see. Arwen's brothers _and_ grandfather are here. Some Southron pinheads--sorry, _ambassadors_ , I know your useless elf is going to be there. That horse-assed Eomer. Oh yes, and Gimli and some of his dwarves. Plus the usual mealy-mouthed idiot nobility. Why, I can't think of anything wrong with that list."

"There was nothing I could do, given it was Aragorn's list. I doubt it you would have been able to change it had you helped with the planning."

"Normally I don't bother showing up. And I promise I'd never attend it looking as I do now."

Faramir shrugged, ignoring the last statement completely to point out, "Arwen did an amazing job, considering what she was working with."

Huffing very lightly, Boromir looked down at what he could see of himself. The dark green dress was, thankfully, not a laced nightmare, nor was it as frilly as he feared it might be. Not that he was any more comfortable in wearing it. He conceded that with it being floor length, it hid the obviously masculine build of his legs. The corset, which Boromir had grown to hate almost as much as an orc, gave the illusion of a waist along with an illusion of hips. The sleeves were as flowing as the rest of the dress to hide his arms, while the top of the bodice had been heavily padded. Too much so in Boromir's opinion. When Faramir had complained of nothing to be done about his shoulders, Arwen produced a dark lace shawl that Boromir would have refused if he could. He'd only been convinced when they had both pointed out that it lessened the chance of anyone looking at him oddly. Boromir scowled, because even he had to admit Arwen made him feel almost believable in the ridiculous outfit.

Though he couldn't see the rest of himself, Boromir was still recovering from the torment of having his hair styled and face painted. The oils and pins and combs still horrified him. He wondered if he could suggest using them to the weapon master; stabbing a dozen pins into a prisoner's head seemed like a good form of torture to get information. And he felt the weight of the added hair piece to give his a fuller look. That was a result of an argument he lost when both Arwen and Faramir insisted. It didn't do much for Boromir's disposition on finding the fake hair was from a horse tail. He had drawn the line at any ribbons, and only grudgingly allowed Arwen to use a small spray of flowers on a haircomb.

If the pain of the hair styling was bad, the memory of his face being made up eclipsed it. He still mourned the loss of his beard. And Arwen hadn't been remotely stingy in the amount of paint and powder she'd covered his face in. Brush after brush was dipped, swirled, and running over various areas of cheeks, eyes, lips, and such. She ignored his complaints of needing a chisel to remove it later and just kept layering it on until she was satisfied. That Faramir was offering suggestions along the way scared Boromir to imagine just where Faramir would have gotten the knowledge from. He convinced himself it must have been from a book. Boromir refused to even consider an alternative. Once they'd wrapped a choker around his neck--to hide the obvious--they had declared him done. The two had the gall to congratulate themselves, while Boromir wondered if he could somehow come up with a reason to commit an honourable suicide.

"You do realise that Aragorn and that damn elf are going to recognise me," he said.

"Which is why Arwen is going to keep them close to her and make sure they behave, while I stay with you so I can steer you away from them."

"You two scare me sometimes." Another peek out from behind the curtain. "And how are you supposed to be introducing me?"

"My and Boromir's cousin from Lossarnach, Lady Eirien."

"What kind of name is that?"

"Sindarin. Means daisy." Faramir shrugged at the look he got. "Best I could think of on short notice."

"I find that hard to believe." Boromir let the curtain drop. "And there's still the problem of my voice. I don't sound the least bit like a woman."

"Your voice. Of course." There wasn't a chance to react before Faramir snapped his fingers out and jabbed them into Boromir's throat. He squeaked, then clutched his throat because he _squeaked_.

"What the hell did you just do?" He whispered, his voice sounding, not exactly feminine, but also far from masculine.

"While learning to speaking demurely is possible, we don't have time for that," Faramir explained. "But there is some interesting information in the books Elrond gifted the king and queen in the various healing arts. I thought this particular knowledge, properly modified with Arwen's assistance, would be our best option." Another shrug, used to Boromir's various expressions of rage. "It can be undone, once you're ready to leave and get out of those clothes."

"I'm ready right now, dammit. And how long am I suppose to wander around out there."

"Just long enough to make the rounds with some of the dignitaries. Arwen and I agreed it shouldn't be necessary to converse with her kin. A few words with some of them, allowing parties with a vetted interest in the matter to see you, and you can leave. It won't take long."

"It had better not." Squeezing his eyes shut, Boromir uttered the words he was certain would be his eternal downfall.

"Let's get this over with."

~~~~~

To say Boromir was mildly uncomfortable would also say Sauron just threw a small hissy fit over the whole Ring thing.

"Though a bit tall for our halls, I would gladly raise them to have you join me there."

As he'd come to learn from the creature that had been hovering near him since their introduction, the dwarf was named Lhok, was Gimli's first cousin thrice removed, and was supposedly pretty far up on whatever nobility ladder dwarves used. And apparently in his current guise, Boromir appeared quite attractive to dwarves, despite the lack of a beard. When one of Gimli's other kin had mentioned he looked rather dainty, it was all Boromir could do not to spit out the watered down wine he'd been drinking. If he was the dwarven idea of dainty, Boromir was quite sure he didn't want to ever meet a female dwarf in person for fear of saying something highly insulting.

On the edge of his sight, Boromir could see Aragorn gaping, and Legolas looking rather pained. He could only guess it had something to do with whatever Arwen was doing to keep the elf from saying or doing anything to make an already ill-fitting situation worse. Although, and he would admit this to no one, Boromir felt a small thrill of victory when Aragorn had gulped upon meeting Faramir's 'cousin' Eirien. He was looking forward to Aragorn holding to his wager with Pippin.

"My brother has mined a most brilliant blue gem not long ago. I think it would suit you, my lady."

The steward was gagging on the inside. No, he didn't have a lot of experiences with the other races of Middle Earth, but the thought of living with dwarves and all their mining, stonework, and hoarding of anything remotely glittery was not his idea of a good time.

What made it worse was Boromir's inability to say any of what he was really thinking. It wasn't because of his disguise since, even if he'd been born female, Boromir felt sure he wouldn't be a demure and delicate flower who held her tongue. Looking at his cousin's Lothiriel's outspoken nature, Boromir thought he'd have more of her fire. It wasn't a false temperament that kept his silence. The entire banquet was an unfortunate situation as many of the visitors were related to the king or queen or both, related to others from the fellowship such as Gimli's numerous kin, or were dignitaries from other realms that he was being forced to make nice with. Or as his brother had told him, "If you start a war, Aragorn will be a trifle upset with you."

Boromir told him he was becoming as obtuse as that old coot wizard. Faramir took it as a compliment.

Worse now was his brother had been cornered and wasn't around to get Boromir away from his current predicament. He was on the edge of excusing himself to find his 'cousin' when a rescue of sorts came in a most unwelcomed form; a very tipsy Eomer.

"Hello, you two. I hope I'm not interrupting. I couldn't continue speaking with the others as they started talking about who had the better stonework."

Lhok huffed, appearing terribly offended at Eomer's statement. "Those arrogant fools. There's no question about it. Mine is obviously the most superior." He favoured Lady Eirien with a grin, going so far as to take her hand and kiss the back, sending shuddering chills crawling down Boromir's spine. "Alas that we must part, my lady. I will return quickly once I've put those fools in their place." Lhok departed with a loud harumph, ready to join in the argument with the rest of his kin. Boromir relaxed, only to stiffen immediately when he felt a hand resting much too low on his waist.

"Eirien, was it? I don't believe Faramir has properly introduced us."

The urge to call Eomer a drunk horse's ass was bitten back by the barest thread of control Boromir had maintained for the evening. "I know you already, King Eomer. Your--reputation--precedes you."

"Does it now?" Boromir gritted his teeth when he felt the offending hand slide even lower. It was practically groping his arse. "Then that makes things much easier."

Boromir narrowed his eyes, which unbeknownst to him made him look rather catty in his guise. "Makes _what_ easier?"

The sly grin adorning Eomer's face sent an even stronger chill down Boromir's back than Lhok's attention. "Showing you how a couple in Rohan would ride double on a steed."

"You ho--"

"Ah, Eomer King. I see you have become as enchanted by the lovely Eirien as I. Sadly, I don't believe Lord Faramir is willing to sell her, much to my great disappointment."

 _WHAT!_ Boromir quickly glanced towards Faramir's direction. Oddly, his brother was surrounded by a few of the Haradrim dignitaries. His expression, calm to those who didn't know him well, showed Boromir that he was growing increasing annoyed, if not angry. His own violent thoughts stopped as he wondered just what the Haradrim could be saying to piss his brother off. He was about to (rudely) excuse himself when yet another important visitor interrupted.

"Forgive me, my friends. I was hoping to ask the Lady Eirien for a dance."

His brain stopped working for a moment, which was long enough for Boromir to be smoothly pulled away from an irritated Eomer and disappointed Haradrim lord. Boromir was led to the dance area and already gliding a little awkwardly across the floor when his mind finally told him that yes, he was dancing with Arwen's grandfather, Lord Celeborn.

"M-my lord, I don't think I should--"

"I only wished to help you escape any more unwanted attention, my 'lady'."

Boromir winced, knowing the elven guests would have likely figured out the truth. It was why he had kept his distance. "I--"

"Don't worry. You'd be surprised just how many are fooled. Because you've wisely not gotten very close, even the twins aren't sure, and certainly don't know who you really are."

This earned Celeborn a shocked look. If he could, at least from a distance, fool an elf, Boromir knew the disguise had to be good. His appreciation of Arwen's skill rose substantially. Yet... "How did you know?"

"Let's just say I had the pleasure of seeing a--relative of yours. You reminded me of them. I was certain when I saw your brother's reaction to being asked how much he'd be willing to sell you for."

Boromir scowled. "So that's what's pissing him off. I know he's never liked how the women were treated there--"

"I believe it has more to do with who you are that has him so upset."

"Well, good. If he let me be sold, I'd have to beat him."

The elven lord chuckled. "A good incentive, but an unnecessary one in this case." Celeborn glanced over Boromir's shoulder. "Seems our dance may be cut short."

"Hell. If it's either one of those Haradrim bastards or Eomer, refuse. I need to get to Faramir and get out of here."

"It's neither, and I doubt if you want to refuse this dance." Celeborn stepped to the side while turning Boromir around, who came face to painted face with Aragorn. "Aragorn."

"Lord Celeborn. Would you mind if I have the next dance with Lady Eirien?"

Boromir resisted the urge to gag, while Celeborn merely inclined his head towards the Gondorian King. "Not at all. I'm sure you two will find much to talk about." Smiling, Celeborn drifted back towards Arwen and the twins. Aragorn waited patiently, until Boromir sighed and allowed Aragorn to lead him in the next song.

"I thought Arwen was keeping you on a short leash."

"I promised not to do anything to give you away or embarrass you, so she let me go." Aragorn had the nerve, from Boromir's point of view, to actually _twirl_ the steward before pulling him close again. Boromir fired a heady scowl at him.

"Don't think I won't get you back for that, and don't you dare do it again!"

"Sorry, but I have to take the opportunities I can get." Aragorn maneuvered them to a more secluded area. "I'm also trying to get over my shock. I... who... _how_ did you manage this?"

"Your wife and my brother, who has been keeping secrets from me. Remind me to beat them out of him when this is over."

"I'll be sure and conveniently forget." Aragorn sighed softly. His eyes travelled up and down his steward, still not sure he wasn't hallucinating. "I suppose Pippin told you about the wager."

"You think I would have done this if he hadn't? Game or no game, there would have to be something very valuable at stake for me to go through this horror."

"Seeing Legolas dyed blue and serenading your brother was enough to make you put on a dress?" Aragorn asked, knowing that was far from the truth.

"I'm not dignifying that with an answer. All I will say is I'm very glad Arwen doesn't mind the idea in the least. Even discussed the details. We both know who to get to do the job."

Aragorn gawked at that. "You two... discussed this?"

"Of course. I thought I should get her permission before going through with this. She seemed to be all for it."

"And... you already have someone who can do this." Aragorn felt a sinking weight falling into his stomach.

"Yes. He's considered the best of his craft. Comes highly recommended."

Aragorn covered his eyes for a moment, then pinched the bridge of his nose. "You realise how improper this is--"

"Don't even _think_ of trying to get out of this, or I will commit high treason and murder you for the sheer indignity of this night."

"No you wouldn't."

"I'd be sorely tempted to." Boromir huffed, arms folding over his padded chest. "It's not like anyone would ever see it, outside of Arwen and myself. Maybe a healer if you're unlucky enough to get hurt and need one, but I doubt if any of them would even know what it means and would chalk it up to you being raised by elves."

"I've never heard of an elf having one of those."

"Tell that useless elf of my brother’s he _can't_ do it, and I'm sure he'd get one."

"You're probably right." Aragorn paused a moment. Boromir couldn't tell what he would have said next, as the Haradrim dignitary from earlier had apparently found them.

"Lord Aragorn! I was hoping you could convince your captain to consider selling his cousin."

Aragorn felt all the moisture in his mouth dry up instantly. A quick glance showed Boromir was nearing the end of his rope and stood only a hair's breadth away from exploding on the dignitary in a complete Boromirian rage. Thinking quickly, though knowing he would regret this later, Aragorn said the first thing he could come up with.

"I'm afraid, good sir, that I've already purchased the lovely Lady. I will in fact be taking her to my apartments shortly."

Boromir's expression teetered between utterly stupefied and a wrathful fury. Not usually one to retreat, Aragorn was occasionally a firm believer in discretion being the better part of valour. Or in this case, political survival, if he was to avoid the war that Boromir's temper would cause. He didn't bother with any more niceties as he grabbed Boromir by the arm and quickly dragged him out of the party. At the other end of the hall, Faramir leaned against the wall, now in charge of keeping Legolas in line while Arwen mingled to make up for the king's abrupt departure. The ranger wasn't doing anything to hide his smirk while Legolas glowered at the door Aragorn had pulled Boromir through.

"So, have you decided?"

Legolas looked back at him with a scowl. "No need to look so smug. And have I decided on what?"

"What song you'll sing. I'm sure my rangers will be interested in hearing your singing voice."

Legolas threw him a heated glare, then stalked out the room. Though several people separated them, Faramir's eyes still caught Arwen's as the two shared a victorious smile.

~~~~~

"You _bought_ me? Why the hell would you say _that_!"

Aragorn winced, hoping they wouldn't be heard by too many now that they were in the sanctuary of the royal apartments. Or rather that Boromir was fine; Aragorn couldn't be certain of his own safety at the moment. "Well, what else was I suppose to say?"

Boromir was two beats away from wrapping his hands around Aragorn's throat, king or no king. "How about the fact that we don't sell women in Gondor like one would a goat!"

Aragorn took a step back. On any other occasion, Boromir's temper wouldn't bother him, given he'd usually be able to disarm his irate Steward. However, he'd never seen Boromir in such a state, and briefly wondered if the man might actually forget about the penalty for killing the king. And though it really should have been otherwise, the now slightly askew disguise did nothing to diminish how angry Boromir looked at the moment, nor did his still affected voice.

"I was afraid he might keep trying to persuade me, and I wanted to leave and get you out of there," he explained in a rush.

"You're the king! You tell the bastard to bugger off!" Seeing Aragorn back up again, all the anger Boromir felt building simply deflated. "Honestly, it's not as if you don't already own me. I don't need everyone to know that."

That froze Aragorn in place. "Wha--what the--how--how can you possibly believe I own you--"

Boromir cut him off. "Are you really that daft? Never mind what I said before about servant to the king. I belong to _you_ , you groddy ranger! From the moment I picked up the broken share of Narsil I knew. Why do you think I fought so much, you bloody idiot!" Just when it looked as though Boromir was getting another head of steam, he suddenly wheezed, his hand going immediately to his stomach. Aragorn almost panicked as he jumped to Boromir's side.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

Another wheeze. "C-corset. Hard to... hard to breathe..."

Aragorn grabbed his sword and simply sliced open the front of Boromir's dress, then turned him around and cut through the laces in one swipe. Boromir took a deep breath, which led to a small coughing fit while Aragorn led him over to a low sofa and sat him down. As an afterthought, Aragorn pressed his fingers against Boromir's throat, undoing Faramir's work and helping Boromir to get more air into his lungs. A few moments later saw the steward's breathe evening out. He offered Aragorn a grateful look as he got his normal voice back.

"Thanks. Remind me to beat my brother for that and the bloody corset."

"I thought the corset was Arwen's idea."

"Don't be an idiot. I can't beat your wife. One, you're _supposed_ to stop me. Two, she probably would kill me with one of her icy glares of death if I even thought about it."

"Right, sorry." Aragorn chuckled. "But you're saying your brother is fair game?"

"Probably not. Knowing he can make fireworks now, and is as sneaky as they come, I'd better not tempt fate."

"And people say you're not wise."

"If I was, I wouldn't be sitting here in a shredded dress."

"Point." Aragorn took a chance and sat down beside Boromir, huffing in relief when it didn't seem to trigger any more displays of temper. "I didn't know you felt that way, but I never thought of you as... as property."

"You really are soft in the head." Boromir began pulling the ruined clothes off, going so far as to toss the corset into the nearby fireplace. "I would have drowned you if I thought you ever saw me that way."

"Then why do you--" Aragorn blinked at finding a large hand covering his mouth.

"Let me explain this since it seems to be going over your head," Boromir grumbled. "I belong to you. Period. And everyone knows this, including your wife, my brother, and probably a bunch of idiots I can't be arsed with remembering. It's clearer than any armor, badge, shield, or rod that you could put on me."

Comprehension slowly dawned in the king's eyes. He moved his head, waiting for Boromir to pull his hand away. "That's why you did all this? So that I--"

"Why _else_ would I do this?"

"Everything. The dress, the banquet, the _corset_ , just so I'd get--"

"Yes, dammit. If I'm going to be marked, then fair is fair." Stripped down to his smalls, Boromir pulled the cover down and crawled into bed. "Now either get in or shove off. After all that nonsense, I'm owed some sleep."

In all the time they'd been together, the two had never once truly slept in the same bed Aragorn shared with Arwen. Seeing Boromir getting in so casually threw the king off. "Wh-what are you--"

"Arwen already said it was fine if I went to that forsaken banquet. Now get in and shut up. Or don't get in, just be quiet so I can sleep."

Aragorn stuttered, trying to think of a protest, until he saw that Boromir was indeed tired, and fully planning to go to sleep right then and there. Shoulders slumping, Aragorn skimmed out of his own clothes and climbed in next to his steward. He started to drift off when he felt a heavy arm move across his chest, and a warm body scoot closer. This didn't hamper his sleep, but the murmured words startled Aragorn fully awake.

"I know just where my crest should go..."

~~~~~

Boromir whistled a little tune as he walked through the castle halls. Most of the servants who knew him could only stare at the unusually cheerful disposition of the steward. Boromir paid them no mind as he headed down to the training area. When he arrived, he found a number of his men crowded just outside the gate.

"What's this, then?"

The men turned and snapped to attention. Boromir gestured for the one in the middle to explain.

"Well, sir. The truth is, we're not sure what to make of it, but there's seems to be an elf singing to Captain Faramir, in front of his rangers."

"What's so strange about that?" huffed Boromir. "Some of the prissy things do nothing but sing."

"Yes, sir. It's just, this elf appears to be, well... he's..."

"Out with it, soldier!"

"He's blue, sir. Head to toe and back. Even his clothes."

Boromir raised an eyebrow, then stepped in front of where the men were gathered to see for himself. He bit his lip not to betray anything as he watched a clearly disgruntled Legolas singing something Boromir couldn't understand. He had no doubts that Faramir could. The ranger sat in a chair someone had thoughtfully supplied as he listened to the blue songbird with a faint smirk. While Boromir still wasn't too happy in the part his brother played in getting him into that dress, he thought the smug look was his due. Faramir cocked his head when he sensed Boromir nearby, who gave a quick salute with a smirk of his own. Faramir nodded in kind, then turned back to continue enjoying the whole spectacle.

Boromir turned, seeing his men still crowded around. "So, he's blue. I'm sure it's just another strangeness only elves can understand. And that's no excuse to slack off, so get to work."

"Yes sir!" "Yes, sir!" "At once, sir!" The men ran to get their equipment, clearing the way for Boromir to continue his walk. He decided to go back to his room to take care of some papers when he saw a curious sight. A guard was stationed at the door to the royal apartments, which seldom ever happened. Boromir made his way over, hoping to find out what was the cause to the unexpected dealings. When the guard saw him, he stood up straight, ready to sound out a greeting, but Boromir waved his hand.

"Stand down. I just want to know why the king has a guard posted when he's never done it before."

"The king doesn't wish to be disturbed," the guard informed him. Boromir looked closely and wondered what Aragorn had _actually_ said.

"His own words, soldier?"

The young man swallowed. What had seemed like an honour before now felt like a steel toothed trap. The guard suddenly wished he was somewhere, _anywhere_ else right now.

"Out with it. What did our _illustrious_ monarch have to say?"

"He--ah--he said he was not to be bothered for a week. Especially by his jack--by the steward. He said that he would see you once he healed." Hoping this wasn't the end of his career, the guard went on to explain how the king appeared to be limping, and was supported by the queen while his hand clutched at the small of his back. "Was he injured, my lord?"

"Possibly. What did the queen have to say?"

"That his majesty would recover soon and it was only a minor wound."

"I'm sure that's all it is, then. Carry on." Boromir took two steps, stopped, then called over his shoulder. "Let the king know if you see him that I will do a personal inspection on the ownership treaty. He'll know what I mean."

"Yes, my lord."

Boromir continued walking to his room, his step rather light as he left Arwen to tend to the king.

~~~~~

"Ow."

"Hush and lay on your stomach so I can rub the salve on."

Groaning, Aragorn did as told, wincing with each movement his back made. "I didn't know the pain would linger so."

"Well, we had to make sure the design matched." Arwen took a jar from Aragorn's medicinal bag and lifted his tunic up enough to spread some of the salve onto the small of his back. "You've had worse wounds."

"I never just laid there and let someone poke sharp things into me," Aragorn pointed out.

"Don't whine. It looks like it will turn out just as we wanted." Arwen's fingers lightly skimmed along the edges of where Boromir's crest had been inked into Aragorn's skin, at the very small of his back. "Boromir was right, the artist does excellent work. I'll have to go to him when it's my turn."

Aragorn's head shot up at that. He tried to twist around to face Arwen, but settled back with a groan. "Your turn? What do you mean your turn?"

The queen smiled softly. If Aragorn could see it, he'd be trying to run as far away as his feet would take him. "It seems," she said, "that Boromir felt he might be usurping my position if it were only his crest. So we agreed that my family's crest would look perfect next to his."

"... _ **WHAT!**_ " Pain was momentarily forgotten as Aragorn turned around. The expression on Arwen's face had him moving back a moment later to hide his face in his folded arms.

"...bloody Hobbits."

~~~~~

"Say, Merry. Should we tell them I wasn't really drunk?"

"No. Let them think you were. Besides, it worked out the way it should. Now Boromir won't feel like he's lost his connection to Aragorn even after the baby comes."

"True, but what did getting Legolas to sing to Faramir have to do with anything?"

"It made him do something romantic for Faramir."

"Oh. And the blue dye?"

"It was funny."

"Right. So what did Arwen get out of all of this, Merry?"

"What she usually gets."

"What's that?"

"Her way. Now pass the honey, Pip, and have the cook bring elevenses."

~ fin ~


End file.
